


Protect Me From What I Want

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Half-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Morgana really wishes that someone had told her that she and Morgause were related before they started sleeping together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Morgana had never been a fan of New Years Eve. There was too much hype surrounding it, everyone expecting you to have fun. It didn't matter whether you were in a club a hundred people over the building's maximum occupancy, or in your own flat wondering how soon after midnight it stopped being rude to ask people to leave, the evening was always a disappointment. 

But this, curled up on the bed in Arthur and Gwen's spare room feeling sorry for herself, this was an all time low.

*

When she thought about it, it had all gone wrong at Christmas. No, actually, it had gone wrong long before that, when instead of travelling the world when she finished university as she'd planned, she'd gone to work for her stepfather, Uther “Bloody Liar” Pendragon.

It was through work that she'd met Morgause “Also A Bloody Liar” Dubois. Morgana had looked up from her desk one morning to find her standing in the office doorway, a beautiful blonde with dark eyes and an oddly attractive half-smile on her face.

“I wanted to introduce myself, my name is Morgause.”

“I know who you are. You’re from Idirsholas Inc., your company is trying to take over Pendragon Industries.”

“Would that make you happy, Morgana?”

Morgana wasn’t surprised that Morgause knew her name; she was Uther Pendragon's stepdaughter, she was head of the Public Relations department, her name was on the office door. And of course Morgause could have guessed that a hostile takeover would be the highlight of Morgana's week, that every morning it got harder and harder to drive past the turn off for the airport and continue into work. 

“That's a beautiful necklace,” she'd said to avoid answering.

When she'd returned to her office after spending most of the day in excessively dull meetings, she found the necklace sitting on her desk along with a note that said, “I hope you will remember me fondly” and a phone number.

As seduction attempts went, it wasn't bad, so of course Morgana had called.

*

Christmas in the Pendragon household had never been particularly festive. And after that one year when Arthur had brought Sophia home and Morgana had turned up with Alvarr in tow, once the throwing of crockery and mild strangulation were over, Uther had announced that Arthur and Morgana were really too old for them to have to spend the holidays as a family.

Morgana wasn't really sure what possessed her to invite Morgause for Christmas, except that Uther was supposed to be in the Alps, and Gwen was fretting about Morgana spending Christmas alone in her flat and she'd shared her worries with her husband… 

Morgause was lying on Morgana's couch wearing nothing but scarlet underwear and one knee high boot which Morgana was in the process of unzipping with her teeth, when Arthur's voice barked out of the answering machine.

“Not that I don't see enough of you at work, but Gwen's worried you're going to end up dead and half-eaten by cats, so you have to come over for Christmas dinner.”

Morgana buried her face in Morgause's lap in mild mortification

“Nice of him to ask if you had any other plans,” said Morgause, idly stroking Morgana’s hair.

“You should come too,” Morgana said, looking up from her kneeling position; Morgause had smiled that lazy and irritatingly attractive half-smile of hers. “It'd only be for a couple of hours, and it'd take the edge off their happy newlywed-ness.”

*

Christmas dinner was only a moderate disaster. 

Arthur accused Morgause of only sleeping with Morgana to bring down his father's company, Morgause replied that she could bring down Pendragon Industries any time she chose and that she was sleeping with Morgana because she enjoyed it, Morgana said that Arthur had no say in who she went out with and, oh, she enjoyed sleeping with Morgause, too. Gwen had looked mortified and offered everybody more brussels sprouts. 

By Pendragon standards it was a great success.

Then, due to an airline strike, a jack-knifed lorry on the M25 and the fact that Morgana was being punished for some unspecified crime in a past life, Uther arrived.

Morgana had expected that there would be a scene when Uther found out about her relationship with Morgause. The other woman was older than her, and the director of a company that was attempting a hostile takeover of Uther's life's work. Hell, prior to Morgause most of her sexual partners had been chosen based on how likely they were to give Uther an aneurysm. 

She'd been prepared for almost anything, except the way all of the colour had drained from Uther's face when he'd said, “Good God, woman, how could you? She's your _sister_.”

Morgana laughed, and it took her a full minute to realise that she was the only one who was. 

The rest of Christmas Day passed in a shell-shocked blur. There was a great deal of shouting, Arthur kept shifting position so that he was always standing directly between Morgana and Morgause and they all learned more than they ever wanted to know about the sex lives of Uther, Morgana's father and Arthur and Morgause's mothers. 

“Did you know?” Morgana managed to croak, but only Gwen, who was hovering protectively next to her, heard. She tried again. “Shut up! All of you! Morgause, did you know about this?”

“He knew,” replied Morgause, nodding in Uther's direction.

“It’s not Uther I’m fucking!” Everyone in the room except Morgause flinched at that. “Answer the question. Did you know we were sisters?”

“Yes. Before we even met, I knew.” For the first time Morgause looked almost ashamed. “Morgana, I can explain…”

Morgana had made it a point of principle never to ask her stepbrother for anything. “Arthur,” she begged, “please get her out of here.”

She was only vaguely aware of a further argument and what sounded like a three way scuffle between Arthur, Uther and Morgause. Gwen gently took Morgana’s arm and led her to the spare bedroom, where she found her some pyjamas to wear. 

“It will seem better after you’ve slept, you’ll see.” 

At another time that might have struck Morgana as an odd piece of advice to give to a chronic insomniac, as it was she obediently changed, turned off her mobile and crawled under the covers. 

It might have been five minutes and it might have been an hour later that Uther opened the door.

“Morgana...”

“You knew. After my Father died when I used to stay up nights crying about how I didn't have any real family left, you knew I had a sister somewhere.”

“Yes. But I had no idea that you two would meet, let alone that you'd--”

“Have I any more brothers and sisters out there? Best tell me before I fall into bed with any of them.”

“Morgana, that's enough!” 

Morgana rolled onto her side, pulled the pillow over her head and stayed like that for a week.

* 

Arthur, thankfully, left her in peace. Gwen popped in a couple of times a day with mugs of tea or soup, but didn’t mention Morgause until Morgana did. 

“This is all your fault, you know. If you hadn’t taken that promotion, if you’d still been my assistant, she never would have gotten by your desk to say as much as hello to me.” 

“I wanted more from my career than running off women of dubious morals for you,” said Gwen with a smile in her voice.

Morgana laughed darkly. “If nothing else, that night I got drunk at the office party and declared my undying love for you just before Arthur announced your engagement is no longer the most mortifying experience of my life.” 

Gwen reached out and touched Morgana’s shoulder through the duvet. “Morgana…”

“Yeah. I know.”

*

It was New Years Eve before Morgana got up, showered and found that someone, presumably Gwen, had washed and folded the clothes she'd been wearing on Christmas Day. 

She dressed and turned on her mobile, expecting to find it full of messages from Morgause, and was irrationally angry at finding half a dozen missed calls from Uther, a text message from Arthur's friend Merlin, asking about Arthur's upcoming birthday and one voice mail from her sis... from Morgause which had been left on Boxing Day. 

“Call me. We need to talk.”

Fuck off. If there was a time to talk it had been before Morgause had tied her wrists to the bedposts with that black scarf of hers. She shoved the phone into her pocket, left the spare room and followed the sound of Arthur and Gwen's voices to the kitchen.

“My Father’s threatening to get the police involved.”

“Why the police?”

“Incest is illegal.”

Morgana ducked back into the hallway. Incest. She'd used the word herself, back when she’d been a teenager and her friends had asked her if there was anything between her and the supposedly cute Arthur. Eww, she'd said, he's practically my brother; it’d be like incest. And then she'd mimed gagging just to make sure she'd gotten her point across. But it hadn’t really occurred to her that she and Morgause were committing-- 

It wasn’t as though she didn’t realise Morgause was her sister (half-sister, a treacherous and detail orientated part of her mind insisted) but she’d been so busy feeling heartbroken, and being furious at Morgause and Uther, liars and manipulators both, that she hadn’t thought… Not that it mattered, incest might not have been the first word to cross Morgana’s mind, but it would be the first thing everybody else would think when they found out.

Arthur and Gwen noticed that Morgana was lurking outside the kitchen. “Morgana!” said Arthur, “Look at you, all standing up and wearing clothes.” 

Gwen smiled kindly. “Hi. I know you're probably not feeling up to it, but it's New Year, and we've got some wine, if you'd like a drink?”

“Thanks, but I think I'm going to go home.” Both Arthur and Gwen looked doubtful. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here. But like you say, it's New Year, and you’ve only been married a few months, you should be alone. Anyway, I'm more than capable of getting drunk on my own in my flat.”

“Morgana--”

“I'm kidding. But I really think I should go.”

Gwen hugged her at the door. “I'll call you tomorrow. We’ll talk.”

Arthur hugged her tightly then said, “Mind where you put your hands, we all know what you're like with family.”

“Arthur!” exclaimed Gwen. 

“What? Too soon?”

*

Morgana drove in the direction of her flat; she felt the usual tug as she passed the airport junction. She realised that she’d spent most of the Christmas holiday holed up at Arthur’s and she was due back at work in two days, no doubt everyone in the office would know about what had happened with Morgause; some of those people must have been witchfinders in their past lives.

It was so temping to go straight to the airport, without bothering to pack a bag, and just get on the first flight out of the country. She wouldn't have to go back to a job she hated, she wouldn't be on the receiving end of any more of Arthur or Gwen's pitying looks, she wouldn't have to find out what else Uther's been lying to her about. And she'd never have to hear Morgause attempt to explain why the hell, if she knew about their relationship, she'd let Morgana get down on her knees in the bathroom of the bar that first night…

The roads were deserted so no one saw Morgana do an illegal u-turn and head back in the opposite direction.

*

She double-parked in front of Morgause's house; she wasn't planning on being there long. She rang the doorbell, when Morgause opened the door she was wearing a red silk dressing gown and her blonde hair was damp and curling about her shoulders. Morgana tried not to wonder if she was wearing anything underneath it. 

“I was taking a bath.”

Morgana crossed her arms tightly across her breasts. “You said you wanted to talk.” 

“Come in,” Morgause held the door open. 

“I don't think so.”

“Please,” Morgause made it sound more like an instruction than a request. Morgana's knees went wobbly, but she stood her ground. 

“Once. It’s been a week and you only called me once.”

“You weren't answering. I also went to your flat, but you weren't in.”

“I've been staying with Arthur and Gwen. You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“Morgana,” Morgause reached out and cupped Morgana's face, her thumb stroking her cheek. “I want to talk to you. I've missed you. But I didn't want to talk to your voice mail and I don't want to talk on my doorstep, so come inside.”

Morgause turned away and walked into the house, and despite herself Morgana followed; she closed the door behind her, narrowly avoided tripping over Morgause’s fencing equipment and followed Morgause into the kitchen. 

Morgause poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Morgana, who put it down on the counter without taking a sip. 

“Happy New Year,” sarcasm dripped from her voice. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Morgana, you turned up on my doorstep at eleven-forty-five on New Years Eve, I'd say you wanted to talk.”

“I nearly broke my neck tripping over a bag of swords in your front hall.” 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” said Morgause, raising an eyebrow. “Are you still interesting in learning to fence? My offer still stands, I’d be happy to teach you.”

“I—I’m not here to talk about fencing.”

“What are you here to talk about, Morgana?”

“How long have you know about me?” 

“Always,” said Morgause. She took a sip of her wine and shifted her weight, her dressing gown slipped open, exposing her thigh. Morgana stared; it was easier to consider Morgause as a collection of very familiar body parts, rather than one complete liar.

“At least, since I was very young. My mother told me your name. She died when I was small. That’s her necklace you’ve got on, I’m glad to see you still wearing it.”

Morgana reached for the chain, she hadn’t realised she was wearing the necklace Morgause had gifted to her the first time they’d met. She fumbled for the clasp, “You should have this back.”

“Please, keep it. I don’t need it to remember her. I was raised by my Aunt Nimueh,” Morgause smiled fondly, “She was a little crazy, she wouldn’t have Uther Pendragon’s name spoken indoors. When she died and I inherited her company it seemed the ideal chance to meet you.”

“That's why you were there, then?”

“Partly. I do have a genuine business interest in Pendragon Industries. Uther is going to run it into the ground. I could do so much more with it, I’d make better use of you for one thing. Don’t you hate writing statements denying responsibility for acid rain and running rings round union leaders for a living?” 

Despite herself, Morgana nodded. “What did you want when you came to my office?”

“To see what you looked like. Believe me, at first that was all I wanted, to see what my little sister looked like. I didn’t even mean to speak to you.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Honestly?” 

“It'd make a nice change.”

“I thought that you were beautiful.”

Morgana laughed and let herself shuffle a little closer to Morgause. “I thought you were making a pass at me, you know. Gorgeous women don't leave mysterious gifts on my desk every day of the week, I thought it was a come on.”

“They should,” Morgause said seriously. “For you, they should.”

Morgana took another halting step forward. “Then what?”

“I should have finished it before it began.”

“You lied to me. You should have told me, maybe--”

Morgause shook her head. “I should have ended it, but you didn't feel like my sister.” Morgause reached out and traced Morgana's jaw with her fingernail. Morgana shuddered and stepped into her touch. “You don't feel like my sister. You were wonderful and sexy and we were having so much fun. Remember the time you got drunk and decided you wanted to fuck me on Uther's desk--”

“--And we used my card key to get into the office at three in the morning--”

“--But you'd sobered up before we got to his office, so we did it over your desk instead?”

“I couldn’t get any work done all of the next day.” Morgana could feel the other woman's breath on her cheek and she fisted Morgause's silk robe in her hands. “This is so fucked up.”

“I know.”

“I came here to tell you that I was leaving the country.”

“I see.”

“I don't know if I can anymore.” Morgana shuffled closer until she was pressed flush against Morgause and their foreheads were touching. “I've missed you.”

Morgause's lips ghosted along Morgana's jaw. “You look tired.”

“I've been in bed all week.” Morgana slid one arm around Morgause's waist and buried her other hand in blonde curls. 

“Sleeping? You need to get more sleep, Morgana.”

“Thinking.” 

“About?”

“Fucking Arthur.”

“Ah.”

“The very thought of it makes me feel a little sick, and I know I should feel the same about you, but I don't. And when I do think about all the things we did together I want...I want... I just want...”

Morgana was very slightly taller than Morgause anyway, and she had shoes on while Morgause had bare feet, so she had to stretch to kiss Morgana. It was almost platonic, just a brush of lips against lips. Morgana waited for a rush of nausea and revulsion, which never arrived. 

Morgana pushed Morgause back until the blonde hit the kitchen counter, kissing like a drowning woman, all teeth and tongues, and felt like she was going to cry.

Morgause pulled away, smoothing Morgana's hair back from her face. “Shhh, it's okay. I’m here, I’ll look after you.”

“I love you. I fucking hate every second of it, but I love you.”

“I loved you from the day I met you.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

Morgause untangled herself from Morgana. “It's after midnight and I'm going to bed. You know where my bedroom is, or the spare room is the first door on your right when you go upstairs and we can talk in the morning, if you decide to leave lock the door on your way out. Whatever you want to do.”

Morgause turned away and walked up to the second floor, moments later the red silk dressing gown fluttered down and landed at the bottom of the stairs. 

Bloody hell.

Morgana stayed in the kitchen and drank her untouched glass of wine. She paced the room, drank what was left in Morgause's glass, then said, “Fuck it” and went upstairs.

She found Morgause in bed reading a novel, which she should probably have found massively insulting but didn't. 

Morgana shut the bedroom door and leaned back against it. Morgause put a bookmark in her novel and set it aside. “You're sure?” Morgana nodded and Morgause slid over until she was sitting on the end of the bed, she hadn't bothered putting anything on after she'd tossed aside her robe. She held her hand out to Morgana, “Come here.”

Morgana toed off her shoes and walked over until she was standing at the foot of the bed, between Morgause's legs. Morgause ran her hands up Morgana's thighs, over her hips, dark eyes watching Morgana intently for traces of uncertainty. Her fingers caught the hem of Morgana's top, tugging it upwards and Morgana pulled it over her head and threw it aside. 

Morgause pressed butterfly kisses to Morgana’s stomach and then pulled her down to sit astride her lap. 

“You only have to ask me to stop,” she said between pressing kisses to the curve of Morgana’s breasts. “You only have to ask me anything.”

“Don't--” Morgana yelped when Morgause bit down, hard, through the lace of her black bra “—Oh, God, don't stop.”

Morgause made short work of Morgana's bra and it vanished in the same direction as her top. Morgana gave Morgause's shoulders a playful shove and pushed the blonde flat onto the bed, doing her best to impersonate Morgause’s teasing smirk as she slid put of her black trousers before crawling up the bed to kiss her.

Morgause slid her knee up between Morgana’s thighs until it was pressed against the hot, scratchy fabric of Morgana’s lace underwear. Morgana groaned and buried her face in Morgause’s hair.

She pulled back and looked down at Morgause, her head cocked to one side. “We look nothing alike.”

“I should hope not. Narcissism is a terrible thing.”

“I just meant nobody would guess, you know, about us, if they didn't already know. If we left London, if we left England...”

“Morgana le Fay, are you trying to ask me to elope with you?”

“I... I... And you can stop smiling like that, it’s not as attractive as you think it is.”

“Yes, it is.”

Morgana made a concentrated effort to kiss the smirk off Morgause's face, and when that didn't work she rolled onto her back, pulling Morgause on top of her.

“You don’t have to decide right—“

“Tomorrow,” said Morgause hooking her thumbs inside Morgana’s knickers and pulling them down. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she promised, sliding down Morgana’s body. 

“Tomorrow is – oh! – fine.”

*

When Morgana opened her eyes she found Morgause lying on her side, head propped up on one arm, looking at Morgana like she was frankly astonished Morgana hadn’t climbed out the bedroom window in the middle of the night. Honestly, Morgana was a little astonished by that herself. 

“You know,” said Morgana, stifling a yawn, “I blame my insomnia on the fact that people seem obsessed with watching me sleep.” When what she really wanted to say was: What the hell do we do now?

Morgause answered the unasked question. “Have you ever been to South America?” 

Morgana’s answer was forestalled by her mobile ringing. She could just about snag her trousers by the belt without getting out of bed. She retrieved her mobile from the pocket. 

_Gwen calling_

Fuck. 

Then a car alarm went off, followed by the blaring of horns. And Morgana remembered that she’d double-parked outside because she’d only intended to come in for five minutes to tell Morgause that she was going away and their relationship couldn’t possibly continue. 

Double fuck. 

She rolled over, hooked her leg across Morgause’s thighs, buried her face against the other woman’s neck and said, “Fuck it. Take me to South America and teach me to fence.”


	2. Coda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the timestamp meme on lj/dw, for starbuck_river who requested a coda set two years after the end of the original fic.

Morgana had finally discovered a cure for chronic insomnia, and that was a seven-hour flight from the States to the UK (not counting delays) followed by horrific amounts of jetlag. She rolled over and burrowed against Morgause, mumbling, "What time is it?" and getting a mouthful of blonde hair for her trouble. 

Morgause fumbled for her mobile, which she must have dropped on the floor when they'd fallen exhausted into bed. "Six in the morning. We must have slept right though." She curled back into Morgana. "I'll have to get up soon."

"How soon?" asked Morgana with sleepy playfulness, crawling on top of Morgause and nuzzling at her neck. The bed was warm and the rest of the flat was cold, the omnipresent London drizzle managing to make everything feel damp, even indoors. 

"Are you okay?" Morgause asked when Morgana froze mid-seduction.

"Fine. I just -" She rolled away from Morgause and stared up at the ceiling "- the time difference is still playing tricks with me, I think."

"I have to get up anyway or I'll be late." Morgause gave her a quick kiss and padded away in the direction of the bathroom.

"The last tenants complained that the hot water took ages to heat up," Morgana called after her.

"I told you we should have stayed in a hotel."

It had been Morgana's idea to come along this time, her first visit back to London in two years. Morgause had to come for a series of meetings that she hadn't been able to pawn off on Cenred, and Morgana needed to sell her flat which had been sitting unoccupied since the last lot of tenants had left three months ago. Anyway, at this time of year New York was bloody freezing while London was merely unpleasantly damp. And Morgause had suggested they might make a holiday of it afterward. Paris, or Rome if Morgana preferred, to celebrate their two-year anniversary. 

Really, they'd been together for longer than that, but it was two years ago that they'd been sitting in the Heathrow airport departure lounge and Morgana had looked at Morgause, really properly looked at her. At his woman who she loved as much as she'd tried not to, who she wanted desperately and constantly, and who loved Morgana enough to want to take her away and start a whole new life together. It was then and there that Morgana had decided to take the knowledge of their shared parent and put it into a box in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind and not think of it again. 

And in New York it had worked; when asked how she and Morgause had met Morgana spun an elaborate tale of an office romance and almost started to believe it herself. Once, at a Christmas party she'd overheard Morgause parroting the same story to someone else. Later, when Morgana asked her about it Morgause had kissed the back of Morgana's hand and said, "History, my love, is written by the victors." 

But now they were back in London, and in London people _knew._ 

Morgana tried to concentrate on whether the bedroom ceiling needed painted and if she should get the flat surveyed before or after she got a plumber in to see to the complaining pipes. She didn't actually notice that the water had stopped running until Morgause sat down on the edge of the bed, fully dressed and offered her a cup of tea. 

"Black, I'm afraid. There wasn't any milk."

"I know, I know," said Morgana, propping herself up on her elbow, "we should have stayed in a hotel."

Morgana drank her tea and Morgause perched on the edge of the bed applying eyeliner using a handheld mirror. It would have been oddly nostalgic except that the first time they'd been together in London they hadn't exactly been the tea and toast in bed sort of couple. They still weren't, really, but occasionally it was pleasant.

"Are you going to see anyone while we're in London?" Morgause asked. 

_Fuck_, no. Uther was a nonstarter. The last she'd heard from Arthur was when he'd reported her missing and Morgana had needed to make an awkward long distance phone call to a bemused young man from the metropolitan police and explain that she hadn't, in fact, gone missing, it was just that she'd suddenly emigrated, so suddenly, in fact, that she'd neglected to pack anything or tell anyone. She sent Gwen a postcard of famous New York landmarks every six months or so as a sort of proof of life, but the idea of actually talking to her was beyond the pale. And Merlin, Leon and Lancelot had always been more Arthur and Gwen's friends than hers.

She shrugged. "Estate agents, mostly."

Morgause smirked at her. Morgana recognised that smirk, it meant: be like that, then. 

"Do you ever regret leaving London?" Morgause asked, overly casually. 

The thing was, sometimes Morgana wished that Uther hadn't told the entire family about her sibling relationship with Morgause and fucked everything up the first time, more often she wished that he'd been lying or flat out wrong, but she didn't regret being with Morgause. And if she had to go to New York, which was too cold half the time and too hot the rest, and full of bloody Americans to boot, to be with her then that was fine. 

If she'd had to go to the moon to be with Morgause then that would have been fine too. 

She didn't say that though, it sounded terribly pathetic, the sort of thing Arthur might once have said of Gwen when he'd had too much single malt and was half asleep on Morgana's shoulder. 

Instead she dragged Morgause back into bed and did her best to ensure that she was late for her first meeting.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Protect Me from What I Want](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4752593) by [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba)




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